


Two Hearts Alight

by salishseaselkie



Series: Of Lambs and Lions [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Quest: In Your Heart Shall Burn, F/M, Post-Quest, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:43:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salishseaselkie/pseuds/salishseaselkie





	Two Hearts Alight

Niamh was freezing. The wind howled at her back as she climbed the mountain where the Inquisition had disappeared. She was hungry. She was tired. Her back hurt from where she had fallen. But she  _had_  to follow them.

Her teeth clacked together, chattering. She gathered her arms in, trying to keep warm, but her coat was not enough to shield her from the biting ice. Her feet were losing feeling.  _Shit_. She needed to hurry before she froze to death. They needed her, needed the mark. The  _Anchor_. Stupid magister darkspawn demigod. She felt the doubts of his questioning, what he had said to her about Andraste and the Maker and the empty throne in the Black City, itching and scraping her resolve. What if she wasn’t chosen? What if she was just an unlucky sod who had no destiny, with as little chance of survival as the next idiot stranded in the snow?

 _No._  She had to fight the doubts. She had to keep her resolve. She would surely die if she gave up. She would perish. And then who would seal the rifts? Who would save Thedas if not her? And who would look after the Inquisition? Cassandra? Leliana? Cullen? Would they have a united front strong enough to pick up the pieces if she were to die? And the way Cullen had looked at her as she made the decision to be their sacrifice…could he bear the guilt of having let her go? Could she die having never told him…

 _No._  She could not entertain the possibilities.

She smelled something on the wind. Smoke? Faint embers glowed in the dark. She came closer and saw that there had been a fire, freshly put out. Tracks, faint in the snow, indicated several people making an exodus up to the top of the mountain. She put her hands over the dying coals in an attempt to warm her numb fingers. When they began to sting and burn from the awakening senses, she stuffed them under her arms again and moved on.

She saw a gap between the two peaks as she followed the fading tracks. There was firelight coming from the other side. Her knees wobbled. She was tired, but she  _had_  to keep going. She trudged forward, her eyelids getting heavy, the snow looking soft and giving.

Her ears perked to the sound of Cullen’s voice. “There! It’s her!” She collapsed to her knees. Cassandra’s voice was the last thing she heard before she fell to her side.

“Thank the Maker!”

——-

Cullen watched as Niamh’s body slumped to the ground, sinking into the powdered snow. He sank to his knees and gathered her body to him. “Maker,” he whispered, “she’s  _freezing_.” He removed his cloak and clumsily wrapped her up. He took her hands in his and breathed on them, rubbing them to warm them up. “I’d be surprised if she isn’t frostbitten.” Cassandra knelt down at his side to look upon the Herald.

Her face was grim. “We should get her back to camp. She needs warmth and healing, and likely food as well, once she’s able.” Cullen hooked an arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. He stood up with little difficulty and shifted her in his arms to disperse her weight more evenly. She looked so small and fragile in his arms. His heart swelled at the sight of her, and his worst fears were for her.

Cassandra looked at him quizzically, and he knew she could see the concern on his face, concern that was more than for a colleague. And perhaps it was. Perhaps he had…feelings for their Herald. None that would be deemed appropriate, however. He nodded to the Seeker. “Go. We’re right behind you.” And as they descended to the camp, he clung to Niamh, whispering prayers over her in a voice so low that not even Niamh, had she been awake, could have heard them. “Please,” he wished, “please keep her safe.”


End file.
